


Post-Partum And Other Consequences

by TotallyHuman



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Fingering, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathroom Sex, Blowjobs, But Agnst, Fluff, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pining, Porn With Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Tags to be added, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-03 07:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11527059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotallyHuman/pseuds/TotallyHuman
Summary: Leaving, longing, love. ‘L’ words puncture Ulaz’s thoughts like needles; they carelessly poke rupture points in his conscious. Before tonight, Ulaz never thought those three Ls could be a combination. There was never the briefest occurrence where they were hand in hand. Yet here they were, each a talon on a monsters claw that’s gouged Shiro’s soul.





	1. The First Night He Leaves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID YOU THINK I FORGOT THIS FANDOM BECAUSE YOU'D BE WRONG.
> 
> I'm here to tell y'all the fuckin story for this fic okay: I thought of this approximately one day before my tab fucking SHATTERED and this is quite possibly my biggest writing project ever. Even thought i had know idea when or how I would be able to write this shit, I planned and plotted it out. It STARTED as a super simple idea for an indulgent and sexy sendak/shiro/ulaz poly college au. And then I was like? well whats the dynamic between them? and i was like 'shit this shit needs context' and then it turned into this complicated and plotty as fuck hs au that i then had to plot out and rethink EVERYTHING. I wrote about 8 drafts of the plan for this, and that's not even including the other paladins simultaneous drama you wont see much in this. i was stressing out so much, tryna figure out what to do and cope with maybe i wouldnt be able to write for like at least half a year until i can afford a laptop. 
> 
> thankfully, i have a brother with a laptop whose very nice. 
> 
> Also, I Shiro may act ooc but that's done purposely because he's having a REALLY hard tike, and struggling internally, and that stuff does distort you. But he will level out in later installments, this one is specifically the one where he goes through his 'fucked up' phase, in a poor description. you'll see.

Leaving, longing, love. ‘L’ words puncture Ulaz’s thoughts like needle; they carelessly poke rupture points in his conscious. There’s shock thrown in there, anger wound in the tight throb of Ulaz’s knuckles as he guided a shaking Shiro to his home, where he would be tended to by the wrong family; Ulaz’s family.  Not wrong in the traditional sense, but they were wrong in that Ulaz could tell they were not the one Shiro wanted. He understands that at the same time that he can’t stand it.

 

Before tonight, Ulaz never thought those three Ls could be a combination. There was never the briefest occurrence where they were hand in hand. Yet here they were, each a talon on a monsters claw that’s  gouged Shiro’s soul.

 

Those people had underappreciated Shiro. That’s an understatement. They had shredded Shiro, given him a horribly backhanded upbringing because - ? That Ulaz couldn’t grasp. How they managed to mangle the idea of ‘support’ and ‘nurturing’ for years. Ulaz’s family were both those things too and yet twenty minutes ago he had been sitting on the side of the road with Shiro, burdened with two new wounds to leave unavoidable scars. One on the outside and another to leave scar tissue brimming in his heart. How could they? Shiro’s _face_. How _dare_  they.

 

“Thank you,” Shiro says, voice worn. Ulaz’s mother is performing first-aid on him after Shiro’s just been attacked by someone who should’ve been in her exact position and humble respect is all that bubbles to the surface. In Shiro’s position, Ulaz is sure he’d do the same but it’s - it’s different. On the kitchen stool, Shiro is slumped over, Ulaz’s mother holds his chin up to dab at his face, he looks weakened and delicate. A thread away from falling through the floor. Maybe Ulaz only wants to see conviction in him. Some - he doesn’t know - _offended_  emotion, that will acknowledge that Shiro does not deserve what’s happened to him. Or at least that his family wasn’t good enough for him. There’s only a tired inflection that coats Shiro’s iris and Ulaz feels as if he’s further from him than he’s ever been physically.

 

Not that Ulaz can bring himself to walk over to the kitchen counter from where he’s sitting at the dining table. His legs are stone, thoughts racing, heartbeat still aflutter to a degree. His brother strides in, a glass of water in hand that he gives to Shiro. Shiro tries to shake his head but:

 

“Hydrate yourself, please, you’ve been through it haven’t you?” Ulaz’s mother says gently. What ‘it’ could be to Ulaz’s mother is up in the air. Except that Ulaz’s mother is an intuitive woman and Shiro’s injury is enough to say that it was pretty damaging. Watching his mother bend over to work on Shiro with alcohol and cloth in hand, laughably tall and alien next to Shiro in their too-small-for-galra-measurements kitchen, Ulaz tried to picture her inflicting such a thing on his own person. Chasing him. Denying him and opposing him for the most ridiculous reason of love.

 

Thinking of that last word makes Ulaz divert his attention from Shiro. It reminds him that Shiro had never replied. Ulaz figures that’s okay; that’s reasonable. He’d really meant it to comfort Shiro. It was some… some stupid notion that saying it would sink in and wipe away all that blackened, distorted version of love Shiro’s family had lacquered him with and Ulaz could coax Shiro out of the chilly fall night. As if it could restore all the security and strength Shiro’s family had swept out from under him. Even if Ulaz had meant-it meant-it.

 

And he does; he knows for absolutely certain that he loves Takashi Shirogane.

 

Having brought Shiro water, Ulaz’s brother stops at the table, arms over his chest and a bit more austere than Ulaz. “What happened to you two, Ulaz?” he asks. It’s concern. Ulaz glances over to Shiro, who's taking a break from his mother’s attentions to drink. Ulaz leans forward, begins to talk.

 

* * *

 

 

They resolve to sleep in Ulaz’s brother’s room, who kindly switches rooms with Ulaz for the night. He’s got a larger bed and Shiro specifically asks if they could stay together. A request that makes Ulaz’s mouth grow dry and tugs his heart with giddy fondness that he feels a conflicting sense of guilt for. The bandage over Shiro’s face evidence enough that this isn’t good thing. That Shiro’s is reeling from having lost the foundation of his life, cracked and unworthy of him as it was. Even if Shiro can’t see that truth.

 

When Ulaz’s mother finished with Shiro’s face, taking longer than you’d think despite - or maybe because of - his mother’s medical certifications and their abundance of supplies, they discussed the arrangements for the future. Seeing as Shiro going home wasn’t an option and wasn’t recommended. It was a tense conference that Ulaz isn’t sure Shiro was ready for, not that Shiro let that shine through. Ulaz could pick up on it. Years of near constant communication and friendship will do that. Thankfully, they only went over the basics. Shiro would be welcome to come and stay with Ulaz’s family for as long as he wanted. Ulaz’s mother always loved Shiro, on some level Ulaz is sure she could already sense the tilted home life he must’ve had. Intuitive. She also described some of the care routines Shiro should do for his wound during the days, or if he preferred to care for them himself. He did.

 

Finally, she asked if Shiro wanted to press charges. That was the breaking point. Shiro had respectfully, and shakily, asked if he could think about it. Which, Ulaz knew Shiro meant in place of saying an outright ‘no.’ Seeing as Ulaz’s family was patching him up in the aftermath of Shiro’s own, which didn’t paint a picture worth forgiveness. It was an obvious sign that Shiro’s underestimated how understanding Ulaz’s family is. They’ve fought their battles and they know how sometimes people go about accepting things in their own way, that the most expected actions aren’t always what’s taken. Or necessary; or helpful, even. But Ulaz’s mother took it in stride and nodded, offered a motherly hug, and set about cleaning up the aftermath. Ulaz knows it’s Shiro’s weird dichotomy of anxiousness, and furthermore his conflict for _them_. Too much love for people who don’t deserve it.

 

But they still need to get at least a night's sleep before getting into that.

 

Orange lamplight bathed the space of his brother’s room but Ulaz only saw the blue and black bruise that seemed to encompass Shiro’s being. They stand in silence several feet apart. Shiro stares blankly at the floor.

 

Flatly: “At least I don’t have to lie to go to have burgers at Delicious Dale’s anymore, right?”

 

Ulaz is speechless, brow raising as he stares at Shiro in the wake of what, he assumes, was a… joke?

 

“Sorry,” Shiro huffs brokenly, failing to disguise the heavy, shaken heave like a laugh, “Was that awkward?” Head still bowed, a droplet falls from Shiro’s face and Ulaz is across the distance between them in two steps. Shiro steps back though, Ulaz has been raised well enough to let him. “I, uh, is it okay if I borrow some pajama bottoms?” asks Shiro as he finds the hem of his shirt. There’s an odd shuffle to how he strips it off that tells Shiro’s trying to dry his eyes at the same time.

 

“Yes,” Ulaz responds solemnly, turning to dig into his drawers. Something for a human… They’re so small. Although, Shiro’s been growing. Not that he could match Galra standards, but still.

 

In a bottom drawer Ulaz finds a pair of old sweatpants, bought when he was smaller, and they’ve got draw strings. The pair will probably be long on Shiro either way. Ulaz turns around and is faced with a very undressed Shiro. Despite the fact that Ulaz shouldn’t have expected any less does nothing to lessen the burst of tingling in his stomach as he immediately tries to respectfully look away from Shiro as he hands him the pajamas. It’s actually more bashful than anything, a rare occurrence for Ulaz. But for the sake of how Shiro must be feeling right now, Ulaz smothers the feelings inside of himself. Shiro just… Shiro just needs a friend.

 

When they’re both changed and ready to settle into the bed, Shiro asks if Ulaz prefers the wall or the edge.

 

“I’m sure that’s my duty to ask of you?” he replies, garnering the most faint and trying smile from Shiro.

 

“I’ll fit in either way,” Shiro says. Ulaz inspects Shiro for a moment and decides that’s his cue to just settle down first. So he pulls back the covers and gets close to the wall, wanting to give Shiro his space. The bed dips with Shiro’s weight and Ulaz subtly takes in a steadying breath.

 

Shiro in this proximity, in the same bed. Under any other circumstances it would be… a tangible dream. However, the reality is instead nightmarish. Either way, this part is unprecedented. It makes Ulaz revert into some nervous freshman or - that, he doesn’t know. ‘The composed type’ was his favorite personal description but, Shiro’s so close and Ulaz has… Ulaz spent hours time after time daydreaming about holding his hand. Brushing a hand through his hair. Every little thing Ulaz has watched in cheesy human movies on Netflix.

 

This is love?

 

Shiro slides under the sheets and pulls them up his chest, face turned away from Ulaz, he takes care to avert his burning face to the ceiling.

 

“I’m sorry, Shiro. Those people - “

 

“Don’t. Don’t bring them into this part, please,” Shiro cut him off and Ulaz is slightly alarmed by the sentence. So much so he can’t help but look over at Shiro only to meet his moon-grey eyes. He looks shaken, pallid, weary. “I know. I know, Laz. We could… we could talk about it tomorrow, when we’re refreshed.” And Shiro sounds like a camp counselor trying to go easy on a couple tired kids rather than a victim. Ulaz supposes that’s as fitting as anything.

 

Ulaz quiets himself in compliance for Shiro’s feelings and tries to relax, to let sleep come easier.

 

“Here - “ Shiro starts, voice grating and raw even at a minimal octave. His hand reaches out towards Ulaz before hesitating, “Do you mind if I?” A shake of Ulaz’s head is the only response, he wholeheartedly welcomes whatever contact Shiro must have in mind. “Just, hum, come closer.” The words are shockingly sweet as they hit Ulaz and he does, feeling those poorly smothered feelings act up in the pit of his stomach like butterflies. Like a flock of pesky birds. Ulaz scoots closer until there’s about a foot of space between them and Shiro’s fingers graze Ulaz’s arm. There’s a hesitant twitch to them only once before Shiro pulls Ulaz by the forearm at the same time that he turns over, away from him and then -

 

They’re spooning. Ulaz’s never spooned anyone and this is Shiro. The action brought them monumentally closer than one foot and Ulaz can see his breath ruffle the hairs on the top of Shiro’s head where Ulaz has instinctively curled in on him. A shower later and Shiro still smells faintly like the night air and concrete, a hint of rust. Maybe that’s just the events burned into the forefront of Ulaz’s mind, however. Ulaz wants his body to change into a shield. He could take every future bullet that comes at Shiro. Stop them like he couldn’t stop a kitchen knife. It’s not true, Ulaz knows, but he tries to think of every way he could've helped Shiro before they got to them.

 

No, Ulaz couldn’t stop the knife. But tomorrow they’ll clean out the spare bedroom and tonight Ulaz will comfort Shiro like the world was ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just writing this listening to my part 1 custom playlist. i currently have this written up to chapter 4, and will have 2&3 up soon.
> 
> i hope you guys like it. it was weird trying to put the characters in this verse properly so if they seem off then i apologize. 
> 
> also, this is purposely vague about the exact past and trauma. part 2\ will expand on it. Also, the sex will come in the next update.


	2. A Month And A Half After He Stays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where that ooc warning for Shiro will come into play

_Rebellion_  was such a distant idea to Shiro before. Once, he thought it was eating burgers with friends and going home ‘tongue-in-cheek’ about the time well spent. White lies. On tangent, Shiro once thought that it was getting a haircut - an undercut - without permission. _Autonomy_  was rebellion and he had felt guilt about it. That was the height of defiance to Shiro then; he told himself it was worth the disgraced, disappointment seething silent treatment from his mother. As if that was the worst it could be. And it had been, at the time.

 

Of course, Shiro had never been to a party back then either. There had always been just a little too much risk, too much danger, surrounding the prospect of such delinquency. His mother had made a adamant and heavy-handed effort to hardwire Shiro against such behaviors and desires, to keep him on track with how she wanted him. Shiro guesses she should have tried harder.

 

Surprisingly, it was Keith who first invited Shiro to accompany him to one. It was only a week following --everything, and Keith suggested it could be a good way to get everything off of his mind. Shiro had no idea Keith was involved in such a scene. Then again, when did Shiro really hang out with Keith outside of Delicious Dale and a few periods of school? It was always for Ulaz that Shiro tip-toed around his family's stringency, the others had each other. Or, apparently, other friends all together. Which… makes sense.

 

He does it all the time, Keith insisted via text. Ulaz voiced his skeptical support and said he would drive. Although, Keith had offered to pick Shiro up (seeing as Keith owned no car to Shiro’s knowledge, he was quite curious as to  _how_ ). And well, what had  Shiro been doing besides commuting to school and turning over in bed? All the little things he carried out in between were meaningless, a blur. Right down to watching movies into the late night with Ulaz. Being lethargic and empty wasn’t the plan, wasn’t what Shiro wanted. He knows it’s some sort of depression, right, but he can’t help it. Couldn’t help how every time he thought of them - his family - his bones became concrete and his blood ran cold and his responsiveness dropped several degrees. And he thought of them a lot. Ulaz wanted Shiro to get out again. He’d been so accommodating: helping Shiro settle into their spare bedroom, sleeping on the floor beside Shiro’s twin bed whenever he asked Ulaz to “sleep over” (Shiro had never had those before), being there in every aspect of the words. Exactly like he always has.

 

His very best friend. The one he loves most in the world -

 

Ah, that must be the weed starting to make his thoughts spin.

 

That party was a catalyst. It was his first experience with alcohol, with being told to let go and feel that quintessential teenage high Shiro had only heard descriptions of. The intoxicating youth he was brimming with, somewhere. Two steps in the door, a red solo cup sloshing with liquid was shoved into his hands by a random redhead. And the party was full of humans. Another surprise considering Keith was half-galra and not afraid to provoke a fight with anyone who even began to insinuate that was a bad. That night, Shiro lost his mind. He didn’t go crazy but he let his conscious run off and hide somewhere dark and hazy and - and - it felt good. It felt good to not think, to force himself to drink until it was easy and then drink some more. After a couple hours, his mouth had felt numb and his skin was prickling with each bass wave that flooded the living room of Keith’s two story. It was Ulaz who had to pry the cup from Shiro’s hand and help Shiro back to the car (he could barely walk at all, let alone in a straight line). Ulaz’s deep, mesmerizing voice registered only shallowly. All tone, nothing coherent. Or maybe Shiro was the incoherent one, unable to make sense of the words coming out of Ulaz’s mouth as he stared out the window of his second-hand truck.

 

The next morning over water and ibuprofen, Ulaz said that it wasn’t a good idea after all. He was probably right, but Shiro could only recall the way he had felt free for the first time. Completely different from every other petty thing he did to feel some sense of liberation before his family. Those had been so… _childish_ , he realized. He excused, which made it easy to accept the next invite from Keith anyways.

 

Now? A month later? Shiro hasn’t gone back to Ulaz’s in two days. His phone is loaded with texts asking him where he was. If he answered, Shiro could ask Ulaz to come and join him. Ulaz would, naturally. He’d check and ask if Shiro wanted to go home and when Shiro said no Ulaz would get his own drink and get drunk right next to Shiro. But that was wrong; Ulaz didn’t need this. This isn’t even one of Keith’s invites - he started ignoring Shiro after their closet mistake. After Shiro called it a mistake. God, what a fuck up. Another thing that eats him up from the inside out. But he was getting help.

 

“Tch, Shiro, your turn man,” a random girl next to him says, breathing out a trail of smoke as he holds a blunt out to him. Shiro takes it.

 

Yeah. He’s definitely handling it. On his own.

 

Another couple hits and the circle disbands. The music kicks up three notches and Shiro dances. Let’s the music seep into his bloodstream and beat the THC into action. Let’s it envelope his thoughts until he himself is nothing but a blur.

 

It’s a burst of laughter and noise near the front of the flat that brings Shiro back into his body, makes him remember he’s a person and captures his attention. A few others are jarred too, but the crowd continues to jive and throb around Shiro regardless of the disturbance. It was that hive mind he had moments ago been a part of. Having been jarred back into himself, however, Shiro strains his head to look over the crowd. Normally, the front door would be visible from the unpartitioned living room, but there are too many bodies and flickering lights. Instead, Shiro decides to make his way through the bodies and towards the archway to the kitchen where every kind of alcohol and chips are skewed messily across the counters and isle. Someone’s left the kitchen open and a sticky substance drags against the bottom of Shiro’s boot. A couple makes out lewdly in one corner, Shiro takes care not to stare as if they care about their nonexistent privacy.

 

Peeking around the other kitchen entrance, Shiro can identify the unmistakable cause of the uproar. A handful of galra had made their way into the front foyer where they were surrounded by today’s host and a small crowd. They towered above everyone else and garnered stares that they the galra either seemed to be apathetic or amused by - judging from their facial expressions. Shiro himself ogles them for several seconds, leaning against the archway frame and listening to their growling tones, distinctly different than the slurred human lilts around them. It’s stupid but Shiro imagines Ulaz stepping from between the bunch. Somehow having tracked Shiro down and come to - to something, he doesn’t know. But Shiro does know that these aren’t Ulaz’s type of people.

 

They are interesting though.

 

Right up until one of the taller one’s head turns and locks directly onto Shiro’s line of sight. The gaze is half glowing yellow, the galra’s left eye covered by a black eye patch, a vertical scar running noticeably beneath it. The meet of their eyes is like an electrical shock. The Galra grins toothily at Shiro - it has to be at Shiro.

 

Shiro’s eyes go wide but he holds his ground in the kitchen archway, unwavering from their staring war.

 

The Galra gets prodded at by someone and he’s forced to turn his head. Shiro takes the opportunity to swiftly turn on his heels and wind back through the kitchen, a bit shaken by the connection. He ignores the couple, ignores the mess, ignores the music thudding through the living room as he heads to the hallway leading to the bedrooms and restroom. It’s dimly lit and littered with more PDA approving couples, soft moans permeate the close space but Shiro drowns them out as he finds a clear span of wall to lean against and gather himself.

 

It doesn’t take very long for the stranger to find him, thank god.


	3. What Really Dictates A Party?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another quick update!

“ _Takashi Shirogane_. You are a student?”

 

“A sophomore. Northern High.”  The words flow like water past Shiro’s lips. It’s uncannily easy to divulge information to him, a stranger. _Sendak_  he introduced himself as when he found Shiro in the hallway and took his place leaning against the wall opposite Shiro.

 

Maybe it’s just because he’s high.

 

“Soft-moore,” Sendak curls the word on his tongue.

 

“ _Sophomore_ ,” corrects Shiro.

 

Sendak snorts, “Sure.”

 

One eyebrow raised, Shiro questions Sendak instead: “What school are you coming from, then? I used to attend Hansen and I never saw you there.  You don’t go to North either. Or are you an adult just crashing high school parties?” The questions are candid and judgement. There’s a peculiar air about Sendak, but Shiro feels as though he doesn’t want to pull any punches for the Galra’s benefit.

 

There’s a constant sliver of sharp teeth that show between Sendak’s lips that distracts Shiro’s gaze.

 

He forces himself to look back up to meet Sendak’s eyes but it’s too late - he already noticed the wander of Shiro’s eyes. The implication is there and Shiro adjusts the set of his shoulders against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Sendak chuckles lowly and answers: “Mh, you know, I think that might be a xenophobic stereotype, _Shiro_.” The way Sendak says Shiro’s name with emphasis is intense and yet playful. It sends a shiver down Shiro’s spine in a way only Ulaz has before. He rolls his eyes to pretend he wasn’t affected. “No, I’m doing a precursory visit. I’m off-planet. This summer I'll be doing an exchange program, taking AP classes for the college I’m pledged to here on Earth. Galwick.”

 

 _Galwick_. That was the college Shiro and Ulaz have planned to attend since forever. The insanity of the coincidence has Shiro abruptly bursting with laughter.

 

As if not in the middle of a conversation, Shiro looks to the side. Peers down the hall of couples completely entranced with each other. He sighs and feels hairline fractures in whatever subconscious resolve he had going for him here with Sendak. Whatever that was. A lie, probably. He looks back to Sendak and lowers his eyelids. Yeah, probably a lie.

 

* * *

 

 

In minutes, Sendak has Shiro bent over the restroom sink, pants pushed halfway down his thighs, and two fingers buried knuckle-deep inside of with with packet lube that Sendak sleazily had on hand. Although it was obviously an ‘enlightened’ precaution, as Sendak stated when Shiro tried to look at him with a disapproving expression.

 

“You’re the prettiest human I’ve ever seen, Shiro. Interesting to have found you in some back-urban midnight party,” he breathed into Shiro’s ear. Shiro writhed and gasped as Sendak curled his fingers inside of him. Shiro only had the mobility to writhe up against the cold granite of the bathroom counter and wooden cabinets. Sendak is positioned up close against his rear holding him in place along with how he has both Shiro’s wrists pinned with one hand up against the mirror. It was an impossible position and was driving Shiro insane. “I wish I could fuck you, y’know. But you’re too small -” fuck, Shiro hasn’t been called ‘small’ since the beginning of his Freshman year, “I think I’ve got at least a foot and a half of height on you, yes?” A deep laugh. “That would cause damage.” Teeth grazed the skin of Shiro’s shoulder teasingly, his shirt having been hiked up. “I bet you don’t mind a little pain, hm?”

 

A moan drips from Shiro’s hips and he tries to rear back on Sendak’s fingers. “Ah, God, I can - I can take it.” The affirmation is gasped, haught and almost distressed. How Sendak could be so good with his fingers alone was beyond Shiro and what he’d only barely been exposed to over the course of the past month and a half.

 

“Mmh, yeah, I bet you could,” humors Sendak before his fingers graze Shiro’s prostate and his mind goes blank. Shiro doesn’t get what he wants, but Sendak more than makes up for it as he takes note of where that sensitive spot inside Shiro is.

 

He’s merciless with the pace of his fingers. One moment, Shiro can barely breathe before those fingers fuck into him harsh and satisfying. Then Sendak’s dragging the slow and constant over Shiro’s prostate. And then there’s a _third_ finger joining the two. Stretching Shiro more than he ever has been before. It has him speechless, noiselessly gaping as he rolls his head back and tries to get a hold of himself. Hissing and panting, trying not to catch his own red-tinged reflection in the mirror directly before him.

 

There are teeth digging in across Shiro’s back. Words Shiro can’t hear are murmured against his spine and god, Sendak just doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let Shiro touch himself either. His cock is twitching, aching for friction, for a hand. _Help_. But Shiro’s hands are pinned and if Sendak’s fingers were to stop fucking him he thinks he might do something lethal.

 

It’s so good, though. Fuck, it’s mind blowing.

 

It’s - it’s - oh god, It’s Shiro being so close. “Fuck, Se-Sendak I can’t - I need to -”

 

Sendak jerks his hand, spreads his fingers minutely on the next thrust and groans before speaking. “If you come like this I’ll let you suck me off. You want my cock, right? If you can come from just my fingers, I’ll let you taste me, I’ll fuck your face until you can’t speak, hm? You want that, don’t you?” Sendak’s tongue licks up Shiro’s cheek and he keens because fucking _yes_.

 

Sendak’s fingers ram against Shiro’s prostate a few more times before Shiro is coming easier and harder than he thought he would. A strangled moan pours out of him from deep in his chest as he comes against the wood of the sink before digging his teeth into his lower lip. Sendak’s slides his fingers lazily inside Shiro until he gasps, too sensitive for the stimulation anymore. Then he removes them and lets go of Shiro’s hands

 

Shiro braces himself against the countertop and finishes up catching his breath. “God,” is all he has to say.

 

A menacing bubble of laughter emits from Sendak behind him, who takes Shiro by the hips and bends to bite the nape of Shiro’s neck, teeth testing the strength of Shiro’s skin.  Which is weak. Shiro hisses and reaches over his shoulder, grasping at Sendak’s head with a groan. “You... really like biting?”

 

“Yes,” hums Sendak in response.

 

Shiro gets his pants pulled up and tucks himself away, feeling good about it.

 

There’s a brief pause before Sendak’s ruts his hips up against Shiro and he feels the daunting press of Sendak’s erection into the back of him, biting his lip at the idea of it. That it’s for him. “I believe there was a deal made.”

 

“There was a _proposition_ , maybe.” Shiro looks over his shoulder at the alien and runs his tongue over his lower lip.

 

Sendak grins, “Oh, are you a tease now?”

 

Shiro levels his gaze more. “As if you knew what I was before?” It’s not a joke, but Sendak hums with something akin to amusement.

 

Regardless, Shiro _does_  want to try it. And whatever it is about Sendak that entices him so thoroughly, Shiro wants it from him specifically. He turn, the small of his back leaned against the sink as he faced Sendak, still brimming with a sharp-toothed smile and an electric stare.

 

Two hands slide down Sendak’s chest and Shiro pushes him back against the bathroom door as he drops to his knees. They immediately move to Sendak’s belt instead, undoing the buckle and yanking them down his thighs. Shiro has to take a breath when he comes face to face with Sendak’s erection, it really was big. It’s not like Shiro’s got a history of experience to make it any easier. And regarding blowjobs? Alone, zero. Alien blowjobs? Less than. But, they can’t be that different. It looks like all the same basic workings, anyway.

 

Hesitation. Shiro’s teeth click as he stares, let’s his eyes flicker up the wildly tall figure of Sendak, and he digs his hand into the lightly furred expanse of Sendak’s thigh.

“Don’t worry,” Sendak hums over Shiro. “Just remember to watch your teeth. " The advice makes Shiro raise an eyebrow. It’s not like Sendak had tried to watch _his_  teeth. Then again, he hadn’t been sucking Shiro’s cock.

 

In a short burst of confidence, Shiro leans forward and licks a stripe along the underside of Sendak’s cock, eyes fluttering closed so he can focus. An already abstract task given the drugs in his system. But he makes do and wraps his free hand around the base of Sendak’s cock.  Tries to remember how he does it for himself.

 

Precum is seeping from the pores of Sendak’s cock already, making his palm and fingers sticky but easier to slide along the length of his member. He strokes Sendak a few times, using a twist of his wrist before dipping his head in to try and lave his tongue over the tip. Trying to figure out the right approach.

 

It solicited a seemingly dreamy breath from Sendak, although one obscenely larger hand runs through the hair at the top of Shiro’s head.

 

“Open your mouth, let it go slack,” Sendak ‘suggests.’ That sure takes skill. Shiro wants to roll his eyes at the instructions but instead goes along with it, letting his jaw go slack and tongue hang pornographically from his mouth - ready to receive. “Now _that’s_  a seductive sight.”

 

Sendak bats Shiro’s hand away and takes hold of his cock, guiding it to Shiro’s mouth. He wastes no time sliding into the wet warmth of Shiro’s face, filling his mouth less than half of the way down. Shiro’s eyes are squeezed shut again, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to suck light at the portion of Sendak’s cock. A _growl_  rebounds through the bathroom above him, hinting that was a smart move. Shiro moans around Sendak, tries to slide further. Except he doesn’t account for the fact that Sendak’s cock is tapered, or that he doesn’t, unfortunately, lack a gag reflex.

 

Shiro chokes on Sendak and pulls off with an obscene slurping noise as he gasps for air. “Fuck,” Shiro pants hotly, wiping at the smearing of precum and spit around the sides of his precum.

 

Sendak continues to pet Shiro’s hair as he catches his breath. “This time, let me handle it, Shiro,” he says and  Shiro nods, no longer caring nearly as much as simply wanting to give Sendak release. He can’t stop picturing being fucked instead, Sendak’s cock inside of him - a shaky moan slips from Shiro as he opens his mouth again, letting Sendak hold him in place and guide himself back into Shiro’s mouth.

 

This time it’s sudden. Sendak pushes into Shiro’s mouth and thrusts, comes dangerously close to the back of Shiro’s throat, and pulls back. This is the pace. Shallow, quick fucking that Shiro’s brain first rushes to keep up with before just letting it happen. Stops attempting to race and instead enjoys, Sendak tastes weirdly wet and salty and Shiro moans as his face is fucked. One hand turns into two holding Shiro’s head in place as Sendak works himself deeper.

 

When Sendak tests Shiro’s reflex again, Shiro forcing himself to breathe through his nose by that point, he only gags a few times. But that doesn’t deter either of them, and finally Shiro manages to ignore the urge to retch. It’ll take more time to completely get over, but for the time being Sendak can actually get a majority of his cock into Shiro’s mouth, in his throat. Fucking hell, it’s the hottest thing. There’s only the stalling stretch of Shiro’s lips around the wide of Sendak’s cock, the taste, the sensation of having his throat fucked raw. Sendak is steadily growling and groaning.

 

“Fantastic, the way you simply _accept_ this.”

 

“Your face _begs_  to be fucked, it’s taken this long?”

 

“You’re _dangerous_ , Shiro, you know.”

 

The words are interesting, certainly catch the curiosity of Shiro’s spent cock. But they’ve already had the bathroom for too long now, another round would have people barging on them.

 

The movements of Sendak’s hips become erratic, carelessly thrusting into Shiro’s mouth. When Sendak pulls out, barely gets two strokes in before he’s coming across Shiro’s face, there’s almost disappointment in him. He wonders what it would’ve been like had Sendak come down his throat, how it would taste. Stronger than the precum? The ideas swirled around Shiro’s hazy, well-fucked mind as Sendak helps him off his aching knees.

 

Shiro runs the water and massages his jaw, finally looking at his debauched image in the mirror and the cheshire grin painting Sendak’s face behind him.

 

“Shall we exchange numbers?”

 

Beginning to clean his face, Shiro scoffs and replies: “Don’t you have to go to Galwick for classes?” Shiro remembers that’s not the case, but he doesn’t want to throw Sendak the bone.

 

“Funny,” Sendak’s lips curl with sarcastic humor around the word, “Not yet. Think of it as my ‘fall break.’ I’m just seeing the sights.” Shiro refrains from saying that winter break from be more apt.

 

“If  I say no?”

 

Sendak cups his hands behind his neck, watching Shiro dry his face. “Well, then I’d say that if you attend the events of this particular circle of friends -” Shiro gives a sideways glance at Sendak on the last word, “or _acquaintances_ , then I’ll be making an effort to attend them all too. There’s a high chance we could run into each other again.”

 

“I like that idea,” states Shiro, making a point not to turn around.

Sendak only shakes with a suppressed bout of laughter. “You’re an enigma, Takashi Shirogane. I hope luck is on our side.”

 

The door opens. It shuts. Shiro inspects himself in the mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter four is going to be a few days probably, so i figured id give y'all this (not that many of you are reading this lol, but thats fine)


	4. When It Gets Too Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some angst, some sex, its fun. i also added a chapter because i cut this one in half to be its own, since it was getting long.

If Shiro were to make a slideshow of his life, it would consist of this: yelling, obedience, and Ulaz.

 

His mother had a new rant for him, about him, ready every other day - if not more frequently. How to act and be better, how to present himself properly, what he did wrong while she hosted her events, how to not bother his sibling, how to act when his siblings bother him. There was one for everything. Every possible infraction and possible mistake that somehow only Shiro had the possibility of making. Most of the time they existed only to his mother or not at all. He knew that. In reality, he was fine. It was only ever to for his mother that Shiro had to strive for better. For perfection. His current state was always just a step behind. 

 

He listened to every rant and he obeyed. What could he do? It’s not as if his mother was wrong, after all. He _could_ do everything better. At some point that ambition became one Shiro wanted for himself too.

 

Between everything there was Ulaz. Ulaz was - is everything. Relief. Safety… Refuge, when Shiro’s mother finally gave up on him. Funny, that it would be exactly because of Ulaz too. That’s not to say that it was directly Ulaz’s fault. Not at all. 

 

Ulaz is Shiro’s best friend. His smile is light, a cleansing water in Shiro's circulatory system. His voice could soothe the worst tempest that turn Shiro’s mind more often than not. Shiro couldn't begin to fathom a life without him. There's no one Shiro would rather have at his side... when he's at his best.

 

If one thing is for certain; Shiro has not been at his best.

 

It would make him cringe when the only thing he could bring himself to do was sleep. Day in and out at Ulaz’s, and Ulaz would be there witnessing it. Witnessing his… his failure to get up and brush it off and be  _strong_. Endurance is a sign of strength and Shiro had none.

 

Whatever he’s doing now. The parties, all of it. He’s still trying to dig himself up. Shiro thinks. God, he doesn’t know. It’s so hard. Shiro doesn’t like the idea of Ulaz seeing him ugly. Handling everything so badly. If 'bad' doesn't underestimate the situation. 

 

Which is why when Shiro finally gets outside of the random house, Sendak having disappeared to be found again another time, and drops on the curb with his phone in hand, he doesn’t reply to the [10] messages Ulaz has left him.

 

Ulaz isn’t a ‘texter’ and when he does, he sums everything up that he needs to say in one simple text. He’s so straightforward, it why people are put-off, Shiro had once told him. But he had loved it.

 

He does not want to know what could get Ulaz to send him ten different texts.

 

Lucky for Shiro, the next incoming alert is for a call. From Ulaz.

 

“Shit,” Shiro hates cursing. It’s sour on his tongue.

 

“Hey, Laz,” Shiro breathes, hoping his breathing is steady and voice is normal. Too much to ask for.

 

“It’s been two days, Shiro.” Flat, cold. Ulaz is trying hard not to pry, to sound formal. It means he’s concerned. God, what is Shiro doing?

 

“I - I know. I just, uh, I’ve been caught up. Don’t worry, La - “

 

“ _Shiro_ ,” Ulaz cuts him off, his voice is strained all of a sudden. There's an omniscient tilt to Ulaz's voice, Shiro's aware that Ulaz knows everything. Knows what he's doing.  _What is Shiro **doing**?_  His eyes burn. “Will you come home, please?”

 

“I don’t think I can yet.”

 

“I mean here,” Ulaz corrects. That one must have hurt. Fuck.

 

“I know.” Shiro’s exhale is shaky. “Tomorrow, okay?”

 

“Will you at least tell me where you are?” Ulaz asks.

 

“T-tomorrow. I promise I'll tell you tomorrow. "

 

There’s dead silence for a few seconds. Shiro looks over at a girl a few feet away with a cigarette in hand, politely minding her own business. He covers the phone with his hand and calls out to her, “Hey, could I have one? I’ll pay.”

 

With experienced efficiency, she pulls one out and lights it with her own cigarette before waddling over and hand it to Shiro who takes it and mouths ‘thank you.’ She nods and throws a peace sign before heading back inside. It’s on the house.

 

The transaction only takes several seconds and by then, Ulaz’s end shuffles and he’s back, “You know I’m here for you.”

 

He doesn’t know how to help Shiro and Shiro doesn’t know how to be helped.

 

“You always have been. Just, you shouldn’t have to be, alright?” Shiro stares at the cigarette in his hand, unused, “You’re worth more than just… rescuing me.”

 

“Then _come back_.”

 

“I will.”

 

Ulaz hangs up. Shiro quietly finishes his cigarette.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next day, Shiro gets invited to a party downtown in an apartment. He doesn’t hesitate to attend, hitching a ride with a guy named Austin and three others. They drink on the way there, it helps with the headache.

 

Shiro can’t remember the last time he had water, but the apartment is larger than average and nice. Smoke hangs in the air like a miniature atmosphere, Shiro doesn’t have to even take any hits from the bong circle in the living room to feel the affects. Not to mention he’s offered laced foods. Surprisingly, Shiro’s offered not-alcohol, but he’s never liked soda so he declines that as well.

 

“Shiro, man, ‘s that you?” A hand clasps Shiro’s shoulder where he’s posted up lethargically in the kitchen, swaying too slowly to the music. He turns with wide eyes to see a Hunk-flanked Lance smiling warmly, chewing on a piece of gum as always. “It is!”

 

Lance slides in close and Hunk keeps a couple feet away, leaning on the countertop and closer to Lance than himself but smiling gingerly and reassuringly in Shiro’s peripheral. Lance has grown a couple inches, looking more stick-ish and gangly. Just like they all predicted he would, how long has it been since they’ve hung out? A wave of nostalgia rolls nauseatingly through Shiro.

 

“It’s good to see you! I guess we know why Keith hasn’t showed, though.”

 

Shiro cringes away from the fact. Because yes, if they’re looking for Keith and he isn’t here. It’s because of Shiro. He should apologize…

 

“Hey, hey, don’t worry about it,” Lance says with a nudge of their shoulders. Was Shiro’s dejection that obvious. “I think this is when he’ll finally, uh, y’know -” Lance glances sideways at Hunk, who purses his lips to one side and looks down, “get over it. You, and stuff. Me and Hunk have had a bet to see how long it would take, too.”

 

“No, we don’t. That’s mean.”

 

“I’m winning,” Lance declares. “And it’s _not_  mean. At least we know now that he’s probably racing right? Awe, dude - !” Lance raps his knuckles against Hunk’s shoulder, suddenly distracted. “How cool would it be to go watch the races?! They’re down on Durby tonight, aren’t they? I love that track!” As if remembering Shiro’s presence, Lance turns back to him.

 

Hunk raises one eyebrow, "They don't even have tracks like that, Lance. It's... just a starting place." There's a friendly tone of amusement in Hunk's tone. 

 

Lance pretends he hasn't heard Hunk and asks Shiro: “Where’s your guy, then, _guy_? ‘S Ulaz lurking again. Being all mysterious and older and stuff or what?”

 

“He's only a year above me. And uh, I… don’t know,” Shiro admits, blushing at Lance’s vocabulary. He sent the address earlier. Ulaz said that he some Mora studying with his father today, seeing as it’s Sunday.

 

Lance’s face falls slightly. “Oh, got it.”

 

A long pause awkwardly parts the conversation before Lance presses on once again. “So, me and Hunk are gonna go have some fun. It was good to see you! Tell Laz we said ‘hi,’ okay?” Lance pushes off from the counter and rounds Hunk to head into the dining room.

 

Hunk lingers, clearly wanting to say something. Shiro gives him a gentle smile, hoping it’ll be enough to patch the situation. Stop Hunk from saying whatever sweet, caring thing he's about to. Hunk meets his eyes anyways, “I know you and Keith are going through… stuff, right now. Dunno if it's the same, but... But you don’t have to destroy yourself just to get back up. It’s okay to let people help you.” Hunk returns the smile Shiro had offered, but a thousand times more genuine, and then turns to catch up with Lance.

 

Shiro is speechless. Shaken. His tired gaze only falls to the kitchen tiles as the words grind through Shiro’s thought process like coal.

 

Thankfully, Shiro is yanked from his thoughts with someone replacing Lance’s emptiness beside him. “Uncanny meeting you, again.” Sendak says.

 

“Careful, dude, he’s got a boyfriend!” Lance says. He was bent over the kitchen counter directly behind Shiro and Sendak, his assertion forcing both of them to look around. Did the kid ever leave in the first place? Lance makes a V with his fingers, pointing it at his eyes then Sendak’s. “I don’t know who you are, but I see you, dude!” The two of them are just… stumped with surprise. Shiro more horrified than Sendak.

 

Then Hunk is clamoring up behind Lance with a wide, apologetic grin. “Sorry! He was gonna get us some more drinks from the kitchen - we’ll, uh, just leave -” Hunk gather’s Lance in his arms, yanking him away and Lance… let’s him? Shiro is stunned by the situation and can’t quite make sense of it. Aside from one thing.

 

He meets Sendak’s inquisitive gaze and says: “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

 

Sendak grins. “Good, now I don’t have to ask if he cares whether or not I take you to the bedroom and fuck you until you see stars.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

That’s practically the rest of the week. The next day Shiro sleeps straight through in the stranger’s apartment, along with about a dozen other people. Right up until a middle aged man unlocks the front door and starts yelling to get out of his home. That he’s calling the police… It was pretty hazy. Shiro only remembers rushing to get out and feeling more unlike himself than ever as he rode to some unknown occasion with several new people - one being cigarette girl.

 

Shiro forgets school that day. It’s the first time he’s ever skipped school and he doesn’t notice it’s Monday until it doesn’t matter. It’s surprisingly easy. People quickly gather at the place, another shabby two story in some unimportant suburb, despite it being a weekday. More people, more drink, more toxic things and the world outside the house and the history tied to it starts to fade. How high school drop outs and just-a-little-too-old burnouts acquire packs upon packs of alcohol no one questions --certainly not Shiro.

 

They drink and smoke the noon hours away in an infectiously lazy atmosphere. It’s not a party. Too sluggish. The house’s occupants too sparse to be the fun sort of crowded yet numbered enough to leave the place feeling cluttered. At some point 0 maybe 2pm - Shiro remembers that he should update Ulaz on the change of location. Ulaz would… probably be in class, yeah, right? Shiro can barely think. If Ulaz is that then at least he wouldn’t be able to do anything about wherever Shiro is for a while. It would give Shiro time to stitch up his splitting seams. The real joke is that Shiro thinks he could, but he’s so out of it that he’d probably rip himself apart all together if he tried. The effort is to no avail in the end; no one seemed to be able to tell him where they were. Giving up on trying to find out, keep Ulaz informed, is simultaneously a burden and relief.

 

Rationally, Shiro decides to dance instead. The music they’ve got playing is low, bass-filled but mellifluous, almost groggy in nature. Each beat mingles sweetly with the high sweeping Shiro’s mind up and away from himself - tangling it in the ceiling fan.

 

At first, when Shiro gets to his feet and finds a clear patch of carpet to begin, he’s not the only person. Several others have had the same idea and putting on their own shows. It takes about three minutes for them to relinquish and take their sheet in the midst of Shiro’s participation.

 

Shiro’s fully submerged in his own world by that point. The attention doesn’t penetrate the bubble he exists in as he gets the hang of his body and really starts to dance. Not even in a particularly coordinated manner. Hell, Shiro is barely trying to match the music as circulates through him. He only sways his hips, lets his body and limbs undulate in an absent-minded, breathtakingly sensual display of natural-born allure, ten notches above everyone else at any given moment.

 

The way that Shiro’s black tank top exposes all the faint tightening and relaxing in his muscles; that it rides up the ‘V’ of his hips that’s been gradually developing over the past year and a half and hugs his chest flatteringly. It’s an intoxicating sight. Grey afternoon light pours over his figure, shadowing and highlight his features at odd and new angles with every movement. It makes Shiro captivating. He is cinematic.

 

To top it all off, Shiro is so goddamn oblivious to the way he affects everyone around him. His eyes fluttered closed and ignorant to the temptation he sends out in waves. Completely unaware. Entirely endearing and entrancing. No one dares to interrupt the show lest they risk being unanimously shunned. Shiro is an untouchable boy.

 

An unmeasurable amount of time passes like this. Shiro dancing and dancing, his pacing steady and head lolling, hands stretching toward the ceiling like it might part for him and he could crawl up into the sky. Settle above the atmosphere with all of the other stars. People just watching and watching and watching.

 

All at once, Shiro’s bubble isn’t popped but invaded. Two thick arms wrap around Shiro’s waist, leaning him back into a warm, broad chest. For a second a shocking assumption comes to mind: _Ulaz_? Then Shiro takes in the purple fur, the larger feel of who was behind him.

 

Not stopping the continuous sway of of his body. Shiro lets Sendak bleed a renewed warmth into him. Lips tickle against the shell of Shiro’s ear, they speak: “I haven’t seen you dance before. A shame, I was missing out.” The whisper is deep, it’s tone harrowing. A quake runs through Shiro as it makes his head throb. He tilts to one side, letting Sendak support the majority of his weight with a soft sigh, reaching up over his head. He digs his hands into the fur around the base of Sendak’s neck.

 

Shiro’s accepted that Sendak has a special way of comfortably encompassing him. Different from Ulaz but in just as satisfying a way. Not to mention Shiro doesn’t quite have access to the latter. It’s mostly that Sendak found Shiro in this world. He knows no other Shiro; he doesn’t know a Shiro without a healing scar across his face, sobered and responsible, a straight A student (once) with a spotless record. It’s so uncomplicated and untroubled to play this part. Shiro: toked up and ready to sneak off, like this is how he’s always been.

 

If Sendak were a god, he’d be the sort with a shrine and a village dedicated to his name. People would give him excessive offerings in exchange for clearing their conscience… Although, if Shiro fucks him as opposed to offering dishes and valuables, is that considered human sacrifice?

Suddenly, Shio is bubbling with soft laughter at his own thoughts.

 

A hum beside Shiro’s cheek, “Something funny?”

 

Releasing Sendak’s neck, Shiro turns in his embrace. Runs both hands down his chest and grasps at the edges of Sendak’s extra large leather jacket. The jacket had to be have been custom ordered to fit Sendak like it does. Shiro tugs them closer so he can roll his hips into Sendak’s languidly - their faces are so close they could kiss, it occurs to Shiro.

 

His eyes flicker abruptly to the side, looking straight past Sendak’s arm to the cushions splayed out on the floor, where he left his phone sometime ago. It’s lit up now, Shiro can see the multiple notifications. His mind flickers with images of Ulaz getting out of school, aware of the classes Shiro wasn’t in worried. Guilt lances through him, hits the lump formed in his throat.

 

“Not at all,” Shiro replies hoarsely, swallowing as he urges Sendak into a new bodily rhythm with him.

 

The two of them are content to dance together, Shiro sinks into Sendak’s ambience and further, forgetting himself in the process. They tease the invisible line of ‘inappropriate.’ Not that it’s quite policed, especially in a hot-box room of drunk degenerates. But it’s a sight to see, like those fetish sights. Or as close as the people around them could get to it in real life. Sendak and Shiro, moving together and against each other - their size difference beyond apparent. Something to envy, for most.

 

However, when Sendak’s hands snake down the small of Shiro’s back, cup his ass and drag them into one another again, grinding their bodies too close - it’s clear that things are too heated to stay public. Shiro doesn’t actually catch on to that right away. Lets a hitched, teased, and _wanting_  noise come unhinged from his throat in front of everyone.

 

All there is is Sendak and the subtle sparking between their bodies. That is, until Sendak tugs him forward a step, and then two. Shiro’s eyes snap open, noticing all the people in his peripheral but still utterly focused on Sendak and where he’s being led.

 

It’s so routine. Shiro misses that: _routine_. One that left some faint sense of feeling in him. Maybe even a hint of happiness. Shiro hasn’t enjoyed a routine like that since November. They get each others’ clothes off in the bedroom that obviously belongs to someone’s teenage sister, what with the superstar posters plastered along the wall and unopened dolls and makeup. It smells much nicer than the rest of the house.

 

This time Shiro pushes Sendak hard. Sendak obliges with a smirk and falls back onto the mattress while propping himself up on his elbows.. There isn’t a hint of shyness as Shiro clamors over Sendak’s figures, settles himself over his hips with his lower lip caught between his teeth. He’s placed just a little too above Sendak’s crotch, where the erection  Shiro could see blatantly before wasn’t quite able to meet him. Could slide against the crook of Shiro’s ass in the way Sendak had thoroughly enjoyed the night before. It’s a game and Shiro’s on top.

 

He leans down, placing his hands on either side of Sendak’s had and rubbing his own erection along the more lightly furred expanse of Sendak’s abdomen. It’s more friction than he’s giving Sendak, boastfully done right in front of the alien’s eyes. And Sendak does stare greedily at the way Shiro moves, ruts against him. Not even like a dog. The comparison would be insulting. Shiro’s too good, too beautiful and good to be called an animal.

 

Large hands with trimmed clawed skate along Shiro’s torso. They feel over his ribs and trace the muscle appreciatively. Caress one pectoral before Sendak’s thumb swipes over Shiro’s nipples, draws light, teasing circles around it and draw a soft sigh from him. Sendak let’s Shiro seek release against him, even as that isn’t what Shiro’s going for. And Shiro lets Sendak lavish a bit of attention to his sensitive spots as the hand not occupied with teasing Shiro’s nipple grips firmly at his side, assisting in the sway of Shiro’s hips on his.

 

Shiro regains control of himself and exhales shakily, grinding his movements to a halt over Sendak. He stares half lidded down at Sendak, taking in all of the other.

 

“Questions?” Sendak’s asks in a drawl, looking for a reason that Shiro would stall the slow ride they were on.

 

Shiro huffs, doesn’t answer right away. “I wonder if you’re keeping me sane right now.”

 

Sendak shows teeth as he responds. “I don’t think that’s sensible.” What’s not sensible? Shiro making him a cornerstone, given the transience of his presence here. If so, Sendak’s right.

 

Shiro sits up, leaning back and placing either hand on Sendak’s chest instead, scrubbing through the hair there. “Well, there’s also the option that you’re - “

 

“Slowly poisoning your soul with impurity?” Sendak interjects with a growl, though obviously sarcastic.

 

A scoff. “ _Yeah_.” Almost enough time to constitute a ‘pause’ passes before Shiro’s leaning down and nuzzling against the side of Sendak’s face. “Can you fuck me?”

 

A rumbling laugh shakes Sendak, and Shiro feels the vibrations from Sendak’s chest shake through his own. “I like to think I have been.”

 

“You _haven’t_ ,” Shiro says, abruptly pushing himself up and scooting back several inches. He pouts but finally presses back, let’s Sendak’s erection slide, slick with precum, wetly against the of his ass to solicit a his from Sendak. Both of his hands take Shiro’s hips now, eager. “ Not really.”

 

Sendak tilts his head back into the pillow and cants his hips up, mimicking exactly what Shiro’s trying to entice him into already.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Shiro didn’t know that being fucked would feel like getting split apart from the the inside out. Being so full could be entirely overwhelming. It feels like being  _conquered_ , and Sendak was the invader with his king’s stave buried between Shiro’s ribs. Shiro’s completely inundated by the sensations.

 

They spent at least twenty minutes stretching him out. One, two, three thick fingers buried in Shiro’s ass as deep as the other times but with ten times the purpose. Not just the straightforward mission of simply getting Shiro to completion but foreplay - but preparing Shiro for something far more substantial. Shiro was forced to grit his teeth through it, not to let himself surrender to coming off being fingered alone like before. The denial in itself had Shiro turning into a mess far before when he’d liked to have been. But Shiro’s ideal stamina was out of reach and he was writhing and moaning into Sendak’s shoulder within minutes as those fingers stretched him with familiarity and far more experience. Shiro always forgot to ask Sendak what year of education he was in. He reminded him of one of the seniors Shiro had had a quickie with a few weeks back. That guy was good, but selfish and uninterested in the sort of mind-boggling foreplay that Sendak would later open Shiro up to.

 

And now they were here: Shiro more than halfway down Sendak’s cock and stretched far past what he expected, trying not to choke on his own spit with a hiccup as he moaned and let Sendak slowly but surely bottom out. They had adjusted their position, with Sendak now sitting up, back to the door and Shiro against his chest in his lap, clinging to his shoulders and panting in desperation. _Clawing_  at him. There was no way Shiro was going to last more than five minutes once Sendak starts to fuck him.

 

Sendak groans like a thunderstorm against the crook of Shiro’s neck. Teeth drag red lines over Shiro’s skin there are Shiro mewls in Sendak’s arms, trying to find the strength to speak. To cry praises and beg but he _can’t_ , his mind is too bogged down by the feel of Sendak’s cock inside him. Oh God, it’s so _much_ , Shiro can’t, he -

 

“I’m going to move now, Shiro,” states Sendak.

 

Hesitation is nonexistent as Shiro nods his head excessively. It burns, it’s uncomfortable, but Shiro doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. This is something beyond, it’s already driven Shiro so far out of his mind that Ulaz is a spec on the distance. Ulaz is  glowing notification buried in a shroud of darkness too thick and laden with lust the light can’t break through. Shiro can’t see it.

 

A whimper breaks into a sob as Sendak helps Shiro pick his hips before before letting go, letting him slide carelessly down the length of his cock. _Fuck_ , that hurts. They used lube, but god Sendak feels _endless_.

 

Shiro pushes off Sendak’s chest, landing back on the comforter with his hips raised up on Sendak’s lap, legs still locked around his waist and toes curling behind his back. Shiro slides his own hand up his chest, pulls at his own hair as if to make sure his scalp is still there. It hasn’t been carved out to let his mind spill messily onto the bed.

 

Sendak’s next thrust feels like a punch to the gut and Shiro cries with a guttural noise, nodding again. Go on. Sendak does, sliding in and out at a slow and careful pace. Shiro’s face is contorted, twisted up as every miniscule movements yanks anew and indulgent noise from him. He can’t think - wonders if he ever could again. The burn has faded and there’s just a speechlessness. For a moment he thinks he’s numb, and the next his whole body is electric, burning. “Faster, Sendak,” Shiro huffs in a quick, testing out a tilt of his hips and moaning raunchily.

 

Sendak teases Shiro’s flank with his fingertips and rolls his hips gently into Shiro once more, absolutely ignoring his plea. “ _Pretty human_ ,” he cooed in the same fashion of children taunting each other on a playground. “This is what you’ve been aching for? A big, foreign Galra to fuck you. How long have you wanted it?”

 

Too long, Shiro thinks automatically. It’s not for Sendak, but he’s too out of his head to correct himself. What would he correct. Oh god, Sendak’s cock drags against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside Shiro and his mind blisses out.

 

“There. _Right there_ , Sss -  _fuck_  - ” Shiro can barely talk, the words are babbled and messy. Shiro is a mess.

 

This time Sendak takes the cue, thrusting into Shiro with wild abandon. He doesn’t bottom out, Shiro can’t feel the meet of their hips. Probably better, Shiro feels brimming. Too full as it is, and Sendak’s cock only gets wider to it’s base. What he can - is taking, it’s mind-blowing. The best sex Shiro’s had yet and he was only half-coherent. Who knows, maybe that’s _why_  it’s good.

 

Shiro finally remembers that he can touch himself and wastes no time wrapping a hand around himself. From there he’s already over the edge. Three, four fingers and Shiro was coming over his lower stomach.

 

When all is said and done, Sendak having pulled out and came over Shiro’s thigh, Shiro watches Sendak leisurely stroll around the room, inspecting the absent owners things curiously.

 

“How long are you going to be here?” Shiro asks again, head leaning against his shoulder as he watches Sendak.

 

“Long enough,” Sendak responds cryptically, glancing over his shoulder with a smile.

 

Somehow, Shiro doubts that. “I need something to smoke.”

 

Eventually they emerge from the room, Shiro somehow having managed to attain a joint before being asked to leave for the next couple seeking “alone time.”  It’s good, the drag of the smoke, the pause to hold it in, Sendak’s hand on his lower back as he releases the drag. The two of them make their way to the kitchen instead, uncaring of any people who may look their way. The two of them are, after all, half naked. But so are a few others.

 

Shiro’s several hands and a beer deep in a bag of doritos, leaning on the kitchen counter and feeling a second wave of pleasure from the food alone, when he realizes Sendak had wandered off a little too long ago. He wanders back into the living room, his vision rushing to adjust to the dimmed lighting opposed to the brightly lit kitchen.

 

“Hey,” an angsty looking kid with a shaved head snaps from Shiro’s side, giving a jerk of his head Shiro gives him his attention. He holds up a black rectangle and it takes a second for Shiro to realize that it’s his phone. “You’re boyfriend came out here, paid me like a hundred bucks to make sure it got back to you when this chick confirmed that it was yours.”

 

How did anyone know what his phone looked like? Also, “A _hundred_?”

 

The kid gives a snort. “Yeah, gotta love off-world Galra, right? No idea how to deal.”


	5. How To Be A Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more angst! some grinding. also, realized i dont need the seventh chapter lol.
> 
> but a present too! i tend to listen to music while i write and make playlists and stuff, which ive done majorly since this is a project and not just a one shot. anyways, my friend said i should make an actual playlist for this part, so i sorted through and did just that: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJXhth6Ifm6z88-6PnvbJkwKmXB_PlZRq

Shiro skips school the next day too. Then the day after that. The house seems to be a solid hangout for the entire time, which is good because Shiro isn’t sure he could handle being a participant in another mass breaking-and-entering. They, everyone, eventually get into a hyperactive mood with the arrival of some new persons and their… special medicine. That’s when it picks up and the music gets loud enough to burst ear drums, the crowd of writhing bodies can be mistaken for some drunk and high eldritch abomination.

 

Sendak is a regular, too. He shows up again that Monday, later on. Shows Shiro how he programmed his number into his phone. He comes back Tuesday and Wednesday. They fuck, mumble conversations while Shiro gets high, and fuck some more. He’s not sure what a relationship looks like and he knows Sendak  _isn’t_  it - but it’s a dynamic that Shiro gets hooked on. Quickly, like a fish to bait. And Sendak was the most massive and attractive bait there could be. Best of all, he doesn’t ask how Shiro got the scar.

 

It becomes so that Shiro can’t remember a world outside that place. He can’t remember being sober. There’s only smoke and alcohol. Bodies and some deep-seated sense of loneliness that the clouds carry him away from. Before Sendak, Shiro would have a quickie with some boy or another in a closet. Sometimes they went for a bedroom, but there was hardly a demand for it. They wanted to get off and Shiro wanted to do something. Now, Shiro can’t think of being satisfied with any of them. He can only remember Sendak’s hands on him, the sharp and quick-witted smile on his face, the glow of his challenging gaze. Sendak makes this second world fun where it was just somewhere for Shiro to wallow.

 

It’s sometime Thursday, when Shiro’s nearly out of his mind waiting for anything to happen. And by ‘anything’ Shiro means Sendak, of course. He’s three hits deep in the latest marijuana filled haze and feeling empty when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He’s surprised he hasn’t lost it yet.

 

[6:68 PM]  **Sendak** : _Will have to make do without me tonight. Visitation obligations._

 

For the longest time, Shiro simply stares at his phones screen. Reading that singular text over and over until their visage is burned into the back of his eyelids when he tilts his head back over the edge of the couch. Everyone around him is on their feet, twisting to an overhyped beat.

 

An overbearing throbbing kicks Shiro in the back of his head, spreading quickly to the front of his skull. The music? The sudden denial of Sendak as his outlet? Shiro doesn’t know why it hits like a punch to the gut. One hand rubs over his face and rests across his eyes, holding his temples. He’s forgotten how to care for himself, and no ideas come to the front of his mind.

 

He doesn’t want to get high. He needs something heavy. Something that will  _drown_  him.

 

Shiro makes his way to the backyard, where people have flooded around the pool and a bar counter’s been set up. The night air isn’t refreshing, it’s muggy.

 

He leans on the countertop, staring tiredly at the bartender.

 

“Four shots.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Drunk people litter the front lawn of the tucked away suburb home like trash. Like weeds. Like people who’ve forgotten that they could really be someone. Ulaz can hear the beat of the hypnotic music seething from its boards and foundation like a makeshift heartbeat and the only thing he can think is:  _This is the beast that swallowed Shiro whole_.

 

Ulaz had desperately wanted to ensure Shiro had space to heal. He didn’t want to become oppressive and emulate his family. His mother had understood too, accepted Ulaz’s cover-ups for Shiro. He’s staying the night at Lance’s. Hunk’s. Keith’s. If he dug his hands in too deep to try and stitch up Shiro’s wounded heart himself, then Shiro would be overwhelmed. He would push Ulaz away.

 

It turns out Ulaz keeping his distance only allowed  Shiro to get lost in the fog of - of whatever the fuck this was. But it was  _not_  healthy. Guilt burned like hot coals in the pit of Ulaz’s stomach. What excuse for a friend --best friend has he been? Shiro deserves so much better, deserves someone who is right there by his side to help him when he falls down. They don’t leave him to fall onto a bed of nails and sink into it, pretending they don’t see.

 

It’s been  _days_  since the last time Shiro’s texted him and Shiro hasn’t been responding to Ulaz’s attempts. At all. Ulaz had to make it right. He couldn’t stand idly by and let Shiro self-destruct. It took an amazingly complicated amount of investigation to figure out where Shiro could be. How could you live in one place for so long and not realize how many pockets of seediness thrived in it?

 

The air inside the entryway is so thick that Ulaz could choke. However, single-minded determination has him barrelling forward through it without hesitation.

 

Someone. Anyone. Ulaz snatches at a girl nearby. “Do you know where Shiro is?”

 

“Who?”

 

Again. Again. Again.

 

Someone shoves into Ulaz, the kid’s short, head shaved and menacing. “Hey! You’re askin’ around for Shiro? God, he’s got a whole goddamn alien fanclub.” Ulaz is on edge, glowering down at him and obvious not about to stay put for another second if the human knows where Shiro is. “Listen, he’s out back, alright? Just chill the fuck out.”

 

Ulaz’s face stays stone cold and he turns and continues to diligently push between the densely packed people until he finds the backyard exit. It’s wide open for easy access. The sounds of sloshing pool water and the crackling of flames - a fire pit? - mix with the white noise of the overbearing chatter. It all grates on Ulaz’s nerves. The scene is hazardous and Shiro is somewhere in it. It’s a veritable maze, Ulaz’s head spins trying to figure out which direction to look in as person after person bumps and slides past him, turning him one way and then the next. It should be easier, being taller than most of the humans there, but there was so much going on that Ulaz’s senses are bombarded. It’s confusing.

 

A breakthrough happens when a portion of the crowd to Ulaz’s right suddenly bursts with noise. Hoots and whistles call into the night air along with laughter. The people are clearly entertained.

 

Ulaz surfaces at the front of whatever spectacle has captured the people just in time to see something… surprising.

 

Shiro is pulling himself up onto his feet on the bar top, wearing a bright smile and nearly red in the face as he looks around at the people that have gathered around him. He has a filled shot glass in one hand, raised as if in toast before someone jovially yells for him to drink it. “I know!” Shiro responds in kind. His head tips back and he presses the glass to his lips, downs it in one swift tilt. Ulaz’s eyebrows shoot up and he can only watch. The people shuffle happily at Shiro. Like just watching him do something so simple is a blockbuster film. Of course, Ulaz has always known how unanimously easy it was to love Shiro for the general populace, This was on another level. Or, maybe just an entirely  _new_  one. Shiro holds out the glass like a trophy of accomplishment, laughing and dragging one hand through his hair. Someone leans up and snatches the glass away for him as another person offers him a new one. Shiro drops into a crouch to accept it, his whole face scrunched with amusement and an intoxicated happiness. Ulaz can barely process the sight, trying to imagine Shiro having been in such a state for three days straight. Shiro throws back the shot again, this time losing his balance and falling back. He catches himself with one hand, barely an inch away from the bar tops edge. A laugh huffs from Shiro’s chest before he’s coughing and trying to drag in a lungful of air, clearly struggling amid trying to laugh.

 

Ulaz looks to either side of himself, seeing people lined up with drinks and perfect unawareness for the situation. Another drink is  _not_  what Shiro needs.

 

Eyebrows knitting together, Ulaz brazenly moves the few remaining people in front of him aside to get closer against the bar. His determination to remove Shiro from the festering pit of a house stronger than his patience to tactfully get through the crowd that clearly has no regard for anyone or anything.

 

“Shiro,” Ulaz says. Shiro is still laboring to both breathe and laugh. “Shiro!” yells Ulaz.

 

The second time pierces the thick haze that’s settled over Shiro and he peers forward, eyes widening as they fall on Ulaz. Disbelief flickers over Shiro’s features only to be overshadowed by sudden glee. “Hey, Laz! These -- these are my friends,” Shiro claims with a stumble of words, waving over Ulaz’s shoulder at the people, who cheer.

 

“Hi,” Ulaz says, trying to be loud without having to yell like before. He reaches for Shiro’s arm, hoisting him up and towards the edge of the bar where Ulaz is standing, so he can catch Shiro. A confused expression replaces Shiro’s glee as Ulaz continues, naturally stronger than  Shiro and moreso with how inebriated Shiro is. A wave of booing rises into the air like smoke behind Ulaz, but he ignores it without a second thought. One of Shiro’s hands paw at Ulaz’s shoulder, balling up in the fabric as if to stop Ulaz. Instead, in that moment of hesitation, realization dawns over the confusion and lights up Shiro’s glazed and glossy eyes. His smile comes back, cheery and bright. Ulaz sighs, his heart softened for a few beats, and helps Shiro land barefoot on the patio once more.

 

“You’re smashed,” Ulaz says to him. The people around them have already begun to disperse, seeing as Shiro is willingly letting a stranger intervene. One who didn’t seem as keen to putting on a show as Shiro’s last acquaintance.  

 

“Nah - no, it’s fine - “ Shiro hiccups, dragging in another breath.

 

“You’re words are slurred. Can you even stand on your own?” Shiro is leaning heavily into Ulaz. To his credit, Shiro did get out of the grasp Ulaz had on him without Ulaz noticing. Only to return it with his own, Shiro’s hand clutching tightly onto Ulaz’s arm.

 

Almost as if tripping, Shiro pushes his whole body into Ulaz’s. Reflexively, Ulaz wraps his free arm around Shiro’s waist, making sure he doesn’t fall and inadvertently holding Shiro tighter against himself. The embrace makes Ulaz’s heart practically skip a beat, even though he knows it means nothing. It’s only that -- Shiro’s face is turned into Ulaz’s shoulder, he can feel Shiro’s next exhale ghost over his skin, and he’s so close. But Shiro smells like liquor and weed and is the furthest thing from coherently and consciously returning the embrace. This is a mockery of every daydream Ulaz has ever had, replicating every sweet note of Ulaz’s sweetest desires but twisting them to the breaking point. One thing is especially off, though: Shiro’s body temperature.

 

“Shiro, are you feeling - ?” Ulaz begins only to be abruptly cut off.

 

Shiro hums and nuzzles into the crook of his neck, “‘Ve been waitin’ for you.” It’s a coo. A lie too, seeing as Shiro made no effort to get Ulaz here. However, if Shiro’s been this far gone the entire week… Ulaz can see why.

 

“Let’s go,” Ulaz says, far from merely asking Shiro to leave with him as he drags Shiro properly onto his feet and tries to hustle him forward, back through the house.

 

“Go… outside? To your car? You did drive here, right? Ah, that makes the most sense,” laughter joins the poorly enunciated words as the two of them struggle out of the house. ‘Struggle’ mostly because Shiro constantly tries to go off in some other direction or gets hung up on some random person that nudges him. Usually it was easy for Shiro to be sociable but there was some reserve. He wasn’t sloppy about the way he engaged with people, he preferred sincerity. This is… far from that. It wasn’t unnerving for Ulaz so much as frustrating, since he was specifically trying to get Shiro to focus.

 

Finally they were out front. Along with a sparse plethora of others, basking under the night sky that they probably could barely see right through their alcohol-blurred vision. Others were simply flat copulating on the lawn. As the two of them stepped onto the front porch, Shiro deliberately pushed back into Ulaz. Ulaz releases a huff and stops dead, indulging Shiro but only so that he can see the un-humored expression he sports as Shiro turns around to face him. Shiro pushes Ulaz against the wall besides the front door, and Ulaz’s face contorts as he tries to figure out what Shiro’s goal could possibly be.

 

“I missed you,” Shiro slurs. His face suddenly looks entirely too tired to Ulaz. He drops his head and looks to either side, as if trying to figure out where they were, shifting on his feet uncertainly. It’s a distinctly disoriented body language as Shiro holds on to Ulaz’s arms. For stability or - or, Ulaz doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. The anticipation is raw inside of Ulaz, stronger than him, and has his breath slowing as he focuses solely on Shiro. Because when Shiro looks up at him and it’s almost as if his eyes spark with some sort of clarity - Ulaz’s heart could twist in on itself, like the knots that turn his stomach. And it hurts because Ulaz can’t help but tell himself that it’s not real.

 

With less willpower than one might think, Ulaz sighs and pushes Shiro away. There’s no waiver in Ulaz’s stance as he enforces the distance and says, “Back to the car.” He turns Shiro around again and guides him down the porch steps, heading back to Ulaz’s truck.

 

“You’re my best friend, Laz. I could say that to everyone  _right now_. And you’re nice.  _I_  know you’re nice - “ Shiro babbles endlessly on the way to the car. As if to compensate for earlier. Or maybe just because he’s drunk. Probably that. His arms reach out above his head, stretching before dropping and swinging by his sides. Shiro stumbles around to face Ulaz, walking backwards with the worst execution Ulaz has ever seen. When Shiro reaches one hand out to Ulaz, there’s a sense of obligation that he must take it. If only to keep Shiro from falling over. Not that that’s the  _only_  reason Ulaz takes it. It’s far from the first time Ulaz has held Shiro’s hand, but the air of it, the smile and vulnerable, joyous intimacy showing in them is the stuff of dreams. The millions of dreams like this one, where they hold hands and after a few steps Ulaz would… pull Shiro in and --This is nothing like that, at the same time. A mockery of Ulaz’s daydreams. But still, a part of Ulaz is stroked sweetly by the way Shiro yanks Ulaz a small step and reaches out for his other hand, this time weaving their fingers together when they meet palm to palm. Shiro’s hand miniature in Ulaz’s. He can’t help but smile thinly, wishing deeply that Shiro was sober, and listen to Shiro as he continues:  “You should grow your hair out. Into… what’s the name. Mmm - uh - a Mohawk. Ah long one. It would look good on you.” Only half the words make it out of Shiro but Ulaz catches the gist of that one. Rolls his eyes at the idea. He’s been shaving his head since he was a child.

 

“Just because you needed to change your hair doesn’t mean I must, Shiro,” Ulaz retorts as they approach his car, parked halfway down the street. They break their hands apart so Ulaz can open the passenger side door. Inebriation makes Shiro stumble the couple steps towards the car, Ulaz watches it unpleasantly.

 

“Oh but you _should_ -” Shiro starts in only to abruptly cut himself off, standing stock still as he looks at Ulaz. Ulaz stares back in his usual, discerning way. Maybe more focused, trying to figure out what Shiro’s doing. There’s no telling how all the alcohol may have -

 

Shock envelopes every thought in Ulaz’s mind when suddenly - so suddenly - Shiro’s lips are on his. Shiro is _kissing_  him, pulling Ulaz forward and then pushing him back -

 

His knees collide with the passenger seat and Ulaz naturally falls back into it. No, awkwardly. His back collides with the partition, his arms scrambling for purchase against it as the miscellaneous items it had been packed with topple out or get crushed by his elbow. Ulaz’s mind can’t begin to process what’s happening. Shiro is lukewarm at best, but Ulaz is blazing. He tastes bitter like the days of alcohol built up in his system. An alarmed noise sounds in the back of Ulaz’s throat when Shiro becomes a heavy weight on his lap. Not only that but Shiro brings hips down, grinding against Ulaz point blank. Ulaz has no idea to do, not with his hands, or his body - well, he knows what his body wants to do. The friction between them has Ulaz’s blood flow diverting almost immediately.

 

Shiro pulls his lips away for a second to breathe and Ulaz ounces on the opportunity, shaking his head. “ _Shiro_  - “ Ulaz says, voice coming close to cracking though Ulaz holds it at the brink. One hand moves to both push away and hold Shiro’s shoulder, trying to put the brakes on… whatever this is. Ulaz wants to tell himself it's not real again. Remind himself that this isn't even Shiro, in the end. It was a compromised blood to alcohol ratio and cannabis. 

 

“ _Please_ ,” Shiro whines breathlessly, head dropped between his shoulder blades. It makes Ulaz's chest tighten but Shiro... He won’t even look at Ulaz. The muscles in Ulaz's face twitch with some emotion he can’t yet identify when he notes it in his head. He furrows his brows and denies it access, stares pointedly at Shiro. Shiro writhes in his lap again, too faintly to do anything but enough that Ulaz’s crotch could twitch in anticipation. He focuses harder. Pushing Shiro off is dangerous, seeing as he could fall back onto the sidewalk outside the open door.

 

Anyone could see them, Ulaz realizes. He swallows the thickness that has accumulates in his throat, careful ensuring Shiro stays balanced.

 

“ _Fuck_ , God, I - I don’t know,” Shiro shakes his head, next breath releasing from soft pink lips even heavier than the other ones. Slowly. “‘S just that -- you’re so - my  _best friend_  Ulaz…” and Ulaz’s name is barely a wheeze trailing after the others as Shiro trails off. Expression softened, Ulaz raises his free hand to Shiro’s face, grazing his fingers over Shiro’s cheek.

 

“Laz - ?” On cue, Shiro huffs. Huffs again. Nothing, no next breath. Shiro shakes bodily, and he jerks his head either way to shake it. He makes an odd, meek noise, like he’s trying to breathe but can’t quite manage it. “I don’t think…” it’s the weakest sentence yet, and Shiro can’t even finish it before his body falters over Ulaz’s. On second he’s trembling, struggling to stay upright. Ulaz is sitting up, concern on the tip of his tongue. Then Shiro collapses entirely against Ulaz, he’s sitting up completely, easily holding Shiro up. Seeing as he’s not accommodating any conscious position so much as holding a  _dead weight_. A realization that is much, much worse.

 

Ulaz holds him up, one arm around Shiro’s back and clasping the nap of his neck. Panic surges up in Ulaz, “Shiro? Shiro - “ No response. Shiro’s face his pallid, there’s some faint, sliver of breath sucked between his lips as his head lolls back. He’s limp. Unconscious, Ulaz thinks. Although that’s still not good. So far from alright.

 

Ten minutes later and Ulaz is all but speeding to try and get to the hospital. Fear has never gripped Ulaz so viciously in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im pushing around my original part order for this series, too, and adding a couple mini projects inbetween. cant wait to finish this first part up, im really happy with the feedback and that its received well soo ---- thank you guys so much.


	6. How To Breathe Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fairly short, meant to be a short wrap up. Sorry for any typos, I tried my best to catch them but I don't have a beta and am very tired

Waking up is gentle. Awareness washes over Shiro like the ocean at the shoreline on a somber day. Slowly, gently, in waves. His body is relaxed into a stiff bed and pillow, starchy sheets pulled up his chest. Pressure has formed in a small node on the crook of his left arm. A sigh presses past Shiro's lips as he inhales shockingly fresh air with an undertone of sanitizer and a hint of freshener. It’s not unpleasant but definitely outlandish, has Shiro’s brow crinkling as he blinks away the blurry edges of his vision.

 

Hospital rooms are unmistakeable, whether or not you’ve ever been in one. You walk into one of them and there’s no awe so much as a simple, “Ah, yes. This is what they look like.” No matter the hospital or variance of design. As Shiro takes in the nearly uncomfortably small space that was dominated by the bed he rests in and framed by pale magnolia walls, there’s a lack of surprise. Only acknowledgment and… the onset of frustration. Guilt that lances through Shiro’s chest like a stake. It hurts, even though his body feels numb, as if it has yet to fully awaken with him.

 

Seemingly fine tuned to Shiro’s return to consciousness, a nurse bustles into the room with a clipboard in hand. The attractive, portly woman perks up when she locks eyes with Shiro. “Finally awake are we?”

 

Manners are important, they’re everything. Shiro should politely say hello, probably thank her.

 

“Do… you - “ Shiro’s mouth feels like cotton and his voice catches hoarsely, “do you know what’s wrong with me.” A different reason has Shiro breaking on the last syllable. The lady probably isn’t qualified in every way Shiro wants the question answered, but that’s okay. He’ll settle for her singular perspective.

 

She smiles with an odd gentility, wandering over and inspecting the machines beside Shiro’s bed. “Alcohol poisoning, dear, scary stuff.” Alcohol poisoning? That makes sense. Shiro remembers getting the text from Sendak, remembers deciding to take a shot for every letter of it and then several more as cheers to everyday they spent together. At least, that’s what Shiro told himself they were for. It’s easier to do things in the name of others, after all. He grimaces, because while it’s foggy, Shiro remembers Ulaz. Acutely, Shiro remembers practically forcing himself on Ulaz. What a nightmare.

 

What must Ulaz be thinking? Does he think Shiro is in love with him? Not that Shiro _doesn’t_ love Ulaz, but -- Shiro tries to finish that thought but his mind refuses, stalls, throws out every vague suggestion because it’s not good enough. Because Shiro loves Ulaz, of course. But Shiro also very overtly came onto him. No wonder he isn’t here. It would be cripplingly uncomfortable for Ulaz to be in the same space as Shiro, probably. Embarrassment infests Shiro's mind painfully thick and all he can wonder is if he's managed to destroy _everything_ , finally. The last nail in the coffin. 

 

A soft hand squeezes Shiro’s shoulder and startles him from his thoughts. “Don’t look so down, sweetheart,” the nurse muses so sweetly that Shiro almost takes the words at face value. “If you knew how many kids like you came through here with the same mistake --” she tsks, “It’s just a part of being young. But your friend seemed real strong, y’know. It just takes one strong friend to help you get better.” It’s so unexpected. Shiro stares, open-mouthed and stricken. She heads towards the exit and pauses to say that she’d bring him some water for his throat, leaving him to wonder about the validity behind her wisdom.

 

A few moments later Shiro can hear the barely distance ramblings of “Yes, just through that curtain over there,” proceeded by the sound of footsteps that rapidly approach his room. Shiro hurries (to the best of his ability) to sit up, some old inclination to be polite raising to the surface again after his initial failure with the nurse. His breath shallows in anticipation, not quite sure who to expect. Anxiety clutches at his heart wondering if it could be them. _Her_. How funny that it isn't Shiro's brother that he's most afraid of? 

 

Relief is all that blossoms inside Shiro as Ulaz appears through the doorway, a cup of water in hand. Shiro expected to feel those pangs of guilt spread and twine around his ribs, to replace his bone marrow, the moment he saw Ulaz again, but… there was only pure relief that floods through Shiro so fully that it could have sweat from his skin tangibly. It was a genuine break in all the awful feelings that had been clouding Shiro’s mind much, much more than the drugs and alcohol had. And it’s the comfort as Ulaz meets his eyes and says, “Shiro,” soft and kindly that makes tears well in Shiro’s eyes.

 

And so he cries. Unabashedly, he drops his head and says, “I’m sorry,” and can only feel solace. The apology is spoken in a brittle tone as Shiro sucks in a deep breath.

 

Ulaz is bedside in only a couple steps, seeing as he’s a bit too large in the hospital room. “ _Shiro_ ,” he huffs uncertainly, tall and shrouding where he stands as Shiro wipes his hands over his eyes. Dropping into a crouching position, Ulaz's head is at shoulder height next Shiro, water abandoned on the table against the bed and wall. One hand curls into the bed sheets by Shiro’s waist, stopped short of actually touching him. “S-Shiro? Tell me what’s wrong. Do you need me to --?”

 

“It’s okay,” Shiro’s says in a tremble, gasping on his next breath. It’s easy for him to recover and Ulaz is more than patient, staying quiet as Shiro steadies his breathing and wipes at his eyes until the tears stop. When they do, Shiro inhales and holds his his breath before letting it out. “I’m glad you’re here, Laz.”

 

Shiro turns his head slightly, looking at Ulaz once more, eyes shiny and a fragment of a smile on his face. Hopeful.

 

The only response Ulaz has for several long seconds is to stare before he leans into the bedside railing, closer to Shiro. “ _Of course_ I am here,” and it’s the most _indignant_ that Shiro thinks he’s ever heard Ulaz, which weirdly only makes him smile because, god, Shiro feels a bit stupid. “Did you think I would not be?” Ulaz questions him, seeing the deep concern in the tight line of his lips and faint knit of his eyebrows. Shiro’s mouth twists with the pang of conscience that chastises him, different than what’s been plaguing him. It makes Shiro’s body shiver with phantom memories of the past week, hell, longer than that But, well, the past week has been considerably more… _intense_ for Shiro.

 

“I don’t - “ Shiro holds on the second word, lets out in a gust of air, “know. Maybe? I don’t know if I deserve you, Laz.”

 

Ulaz’s hand uncurls from the sheets to hold Shiro’s arm in a benevolent but firm grasp. Is that shock that seethes from Ulaz? “That’s - There’s no ‘deserving’ about it, Shiro. You’ve been... upset and I was not sure if I could help you. If I was _enough_. We've always been there, it's 'second nature.'”

 

The word 'enough' rings through Shiro. It shakes Shiro to his core and pierces some sludge-filled, sick mass inside of him. Is that not a concept that Shiro has clung to the point of damage? His eyes go wide as he fixes his gaze on Ulaz, suddenly _correctly_ aware of Ulaz’s perspective. Or at least about it. Shiro had been so utterly self-absorbed with himself, with his own turmoil. He knew that he had been shutting Ulaz out to some degree, knew that Ulaz felt bad about it, but it hadn’t occurred to Shiro that Ulaz might feel so responsible. Shiro figured that the burden of his feelings was entirely his to bear and his alone, that he would figure out how to carry them alone or let them rot inside of him. Alone. Quietly in a crowd of people too high to care. As if that would be so easy to get away with, one way or the other.

 

“I - I forgot that…” there was nothing else really. Shiro had _forgotten_. Somewhere between the blunts and hits and alcohol, that Shiro was cared for by anyone had slipped his mind. Sendak had restored some of that when they were together, which was why Shiro became so dependent on the meetings. “Being in those places helped me forget more than lying in bed, that’s all. I think… I think I felt - I don’t know - lonely?” How blind. How oblivious, Shiro tells himself now with both eyes on Ulaz.

 

“I only wanted you to feel like you had the space to recuperate, Shiro. I… I did not want to be your mother,” states Ulaz. “I would have come with you, if you wanted company.”

 

The mention of Shiro's mother makes him wince, but Shiro tucks it away. There are more important matters. “But that _scene_ \- you were always so opposed to parties. That culture.”

 

 _“I am_ ,” Ulaz replies sharply, “look at you, Shiro. Alcohol poisoning is not wise to subject yourself to. I was... very frightened for your well being, Shiro. _You stopped answering_.” Shiro imagines being in Ulaz's position and feels considerably embarrassed by the behavior. He would likely be twice as heavy handed about the stress of the situation than Ulaz was currently. Then again, the likelihood that Ulaz would be in Shiro's situation was less than minute. 

 

In fact, sheepishness flushes visibly on Shiro’s face at the observation. “I know. It was just a stupid mistake. Multiple mistakes. One after another - “ the couple poorly executed jokes earns Shiro a raised eyebrow from Ulaz. “I can’t take it back, Laz. But... I shouldn’t have done it. I just didn’t see anything else to do in response - “ to what? Not being able to see his usual lay? The reasoning went deeper than that, Shiro knew. Knowing wasn’t enough for Shiro to deduce the roots. Especially not in the midst of hospital coddling after a week long drug haze and hang over. “To what I’ve been feeling.”

 

“It’s okay,” Ulaz echoes Shiro. The slight smile on his lips is the same as a grin and makes soft fuzz grow and spread in Shiro’s chest cavity, “I’m not asking for your apology. Only relieved to have you safe.  And _sound_ , as it goes, yes?”

 

There’s more to be said on the subject, Shiro can see that in Ulaz’s tone. But he knows that those can come next, that Ulaz is going to allow Shiro some respite before they do. And how _badly_ does Shiro desire real rest, not just crashing from a high or exhaustion. Shiro feels his lower lip tremble with the sheer thankfulness that floods his chest, making him bite down on it. Drives him to lean forward until his head is pressed to Ulaz’s. Ulaz's hand moves from his arm to clasp the nape of his neck instead. Like gears, their free hands fit together, fingers winding together. Ulaz's palm is warm and solid and Shiro feels a shudder wrack his body. Shiro had sought escape and in doing so left behind sanctuary.

 

“Please,” Ulaz murmurs, Shiro feels one wide and long hand clasp the nape of his neck tenderly, “come back?”

  
Shiro exhales, nods his head and feels fixated on the light brush of his lips over Ulaz's brow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of this series shouldnt be that long, 2 maybe 3 chapters. And follow this stage of Shiro's life, so it's mot over yet. I originally meant to have that as a part of this one, rather than its own separate, but decided against it as this one got fleshed out. But it's fine, only means the other parts move down the schedule. But this is probably ,y first slow-buildy project to go so well and I'm excited about that. Thanks for the support so far y'all :^) 
> 
> And also! I used to be found @galaxynoxious, but I'm now @agentswxshington.tumblr.com and I encourage anyone to come and talk with me about Shendak or anything Shiro//


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